The Mystery of the Jeered Journalist
by LuckyLadybug
Summary: Based on the books, but involves a character from The Ghostwriter's Cruise 1970s television episode. Nancy, Bess, and George are at a convention for amateur detectives when Peter Howard, a reporter acquaintance of Nancy and George's, appears with a mystery involving one of the other detectives. Plunged into life-threatening intrigue, the girls are forced to work with Peter.
1. Chapter 1

**Nancy Drew**

_**The Mystery of the Jeered Journalist**_

**By Lucky_Ladybug**

**Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! While I base this mostly on the books, it is with the idea that the basic events of the 1970s **_**Nancy Drew**_** television series' episode **_**The Ghostwriter's Cruise**_** happened in the book universe. I love the TV series, but I'd rather set this in the book verse because of the characterizations and other things the TV series altered. The episode is important to the story despite the book verse because ever since I first saw it perhaps fourteen or fifteen years ago, I have been fond of H.M. Wynant's character Peter Howard. Hence, I really wanted to bring him in for more fun and have Nancy actually team up with him on a case. I adored that they danced together in the episode. If they had solved that case together too, I probably would have sailed over the moon!**

**Chapter One**

"What a beautiful hotel suite!" Bess Marvin declared. She spread her arms for emphasis, standing and gazing at the lovely and expensive furniture and accessories.

"The Chicago Amateur Detectives Convention always provides the best for its guests," Nancy Drew smiled in approval as she set her luggage down on the bed. She was sent an invitation every year, and although recognition and praise usually embarrassed her, the convention generally had something interesting that made her want to attend. Her close friends, who often helped her in solving mysteries both at home and abroad, were happy to attend with her.

"They've got some pretty good stuff for sports fans too," Bess's cousin George Fayne remarked. She was standing at the window, gazing down at the tennis courts.

"It's just too bad that we didn't make it here in time to get settled before the opening dinner," Bess frowned. "It's not that long of a drive from River Heights. Who would've thought we'd get caught in that horrible traffic jam!"

"Well, if we could have left earlier, maybe it wouldn't have happened," said George. "Nancy and I were ready while you were still trying to decide what perfume to bring!"

"I wanted the best possible scent for the occasion," Bess declared, sticking her nose in the air. "And at least we made it here in time to hear that dreamy Allan Parker give his speech at dinner!"

"That _was_ a good speech," Nancy interjected with a nod. "Mr. Parker has solved a lot of important cases."

"No more important than yours, Nancy," George said. "But he gets a lot more recognition than you."

"That's alright. Anyway, he's been at it a lot longer." Nancy opened her suitcase and began to sort through her belongings. "I wanted to talk to him after his speech, but I couldn't seem to catch up to him."

"Yeah, because he was being mobbed by all those reporters." George leaned on a chair.

"Wouldn't it be exciting to solve a case with him?" Bess exclaimed.

"Even if you got knocked out, beat up, kidnapped, and looked a complete mess when he saved you?" George quipped.

Bess opened her mouth to retort, but the horrible _crash_ against the hotel room door right then was more than enough to make her and the other girls jump a mile and forget the topic. "Oh Nancy!" cried Bess.

"What _is_ that?!" George burst out.

Nancy headed for the door in determination. "There's only one way to find out," she declared.

"Don't open the door!" Bess exclaimed. "There could be some horrible man out there, just waiting to grab one of us!"

"So I'll stand ready with my karate," George said, positioning herself near the door.

But it was most unnecessary. As Nancy eased the door open, not sure what she would find, a body came crashing in onto the floor. Bess screamed.

"Holy smokes!" said George. "Who is that?!"

"Is he dead?!" Bess wailed.

Nancy dropped to her knees next to the body and felt for a pulse. "No, Bess, he's not dead," she soon reported. "And something about him seems familiar." She tried to gently push on his shoulder to turn him onto his side, but he was too heavy for her to be able to move him very carefully. "Help me move him, George," she said then. "I don't want to hurt him worse."

George dropped down next to her and together they managed to position him on his side, so he could breathe easier. "I remember him!" George cried now. "Peter Howard! He was on the cruise ship when we went with John Addams and his niece!"

Bess stiffened, obviously remembering what she had been told about that adventure. "He wasn't the one trying to kill Mr. Addams, was he?!"

"No, Bess. He said he was a reporter representing a magazine syndicate." Nancy examined him for visible injuries as she spoke. "I can't say I liked him much, but he wasn't trying to hurt Mr. Addams. He just wanted to have Mr. Addams' notes on his autobiography and wanted to go through me to get to them."

"He's quite handsome," Bess said in approval. "If he wasn't so much older than me . . ."

"Why should that stop you?" George teased. "Younger girls with older men is getting to be more common these days. Anyway, I thought you liked older men."

Bess made a face. "Not _this _much older. He must be close to fifty! I'd rather have a man closer to my own age, thanks." She leaned down, placing her hands on her knees. "How is he, Nancy?"

Nancy frowned. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "He hasn't shown any signs of regaining consciousness. There is this bump at the back of his head. . . ." She indicated its location under his dark hair.

"We'd better call an ambulance," said Bess, straightening and hurrying to the phone.

George was frowning too. "So somebody hits him in the head and he stays awake long enough to stagger down the hall and conveniently crash into our door?"

"Either that or someone deliberately left him here," Nancy said. "And it doesn't make much sense either way. I can't imagine why anyone would leave him on purpose. How would they even know that any of us know him?"

George folded her arms. "And if he came here himself, was he trying to find you to get help?" she wondered.

"I can't figure out how he'd know we're here," Nancy said. "But then again, I guess if he's a good reporter he should be able to learn something like that easy enough. Maybe he saw us at the dinner, even though we didn't see him.

"Of course, it could all just be a bizarre coincidence."

Bess hung up the phone. "The ambulance is on its way," she reported.

Nancy nodded. "Good." Hesitating, she then began to search through Peter's pockets.

"Nancy, what are you doing?!" Bess exclaimed.

"I'm looking for any clues about what happened to Mr. Howard and why," Nancy said. "But strangely enough, all of his pockets are empty. Whoever did this to him might have already found what they wanted."

"It could have been just a simple robbery," George said.

"It could have been," Nancy agreed. But from her tone of voice, she was not convinced.

The man groaned then, weakly curling his fingers on the carpet. Nancy perked up, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Howard?" she called. "This is Nancy Drew. Can you hear me?"

He struggled to force his eyes open. "Nancy Drew?" he mumbled. Despite his obvious pain, his lips curled in his best attempt at a charming smile. "I'm sorry to blow in like this, Miss Drew."

"Do you remember what happened to you?" Nancy asked.

"I wanted to talk with you," he said. "They caught me first. Tried to take my notes."

"Tried?" Nancy frowned. "Your pockets are all empty, Mr. Howard."

"They took my wallet then," he said in vague annoyance. "It's a good thing I took my money out of it. And as for my notes, well . . ." He smirked. "I hid them."

"Maybe you shouldn't try to talk, Mr. Howard," Bess said in concern. "I called an ambulance."

"Ambulance? I'll be alright." He tried to sit up and promptly clenched his teeth against the pain. A hand went to the back of his head. "I've been through worse than this on some of my stories."

"Mr. Howard . . ." Nancy gave him a long look. "Are you really trying to get a story for the magazine syndicate you said you represent? I have a hard time believing they would be interested in the Chicago Amateur Detectives Convention."

"They would be . . . if I could prove one of the leading international amateur detectives is a fraud," Peter replied through clenched teeth. He slumped against the footboard of the nearest bed, dizzy.

"Not Nancy!" Bess cried in horror.

"_Please!"_ Peter held up his hands in desperation. "Don't yell." He closed his eyes in pain. "And no, it's not Miss Drew. From what I've seen and heard, Miss Drew's skills are very genuine."

Nancy frowned. "Then who is it?" she queried.

"Allan Parker."

Bess could not control the squeal of outraged disbelief. Peter cringed again, but she did not seem to notice.

"Why, it could never be him!" she declared. "He's a wonderful detective! And he gave an amazing speech just tonight, all about the crimes he's solved and the criminals he's fought with. How could you ever think he could be a fraud?!"

"I don't just think it without any proof," Peter said with impatience. "All of the evidence I've been collecting is in my notes."

"And where did you hide your notes, Mr. Howard?" Nancy asked. She was withholding her opinion of this revelation. It seemed incredibly outlandish, to think that Allan Parker could be a fraud, but she had encountered so many people who were not as they seemed that she was willing to withhold judgment until she saw the evidence.

"They're in my . . ." But Peter trailed off, stiffening at the sounds of footsteps up the hall. "What's that?"

George, who was closest to the open door, looked out. "It's the paramedics," she announced.

Nancy got up to see. But she only studied them for a moment before she went rigid and shut the door, locking it as best as she could.

"Nancy, what are you doing?!" Bess exclaimed. "You can't lock the paramedics out!"

"I'm not so sure those _are_ the real paramedics, Bess," Nancy frowned. "One of them was trying to sort through the equipment like he couldn't figure out what anything was for."

"Maybe it was his first time out," George suggested.

But Peter looked worried. "Did one of them have a scar along his left arm?"

Nancy thought about it and nodded. "I saw something on his arm," she said.

"I did too," George realized. "It was raised up. That's called a hypertrophic scar, isn't it?"

"Then they aren't the paramedics," Peter said darkly. "Heaven knows what they did with the real ones."

Nancy grabbed the phone, her heart increasing in speed. Whether or not this had anything to do with Allan Parker, Peter Howard was definitely in danger. And now, Bess and George and Nancy herself were as well.

She dialed the front desk, praying that the hotel detective could be sent up before the fake paramedics managed to break through the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

It seemed an eternity before the telephone was answered at the front desk. "Hello, Royal Hotel."

"This is Nancy Drew in room 321," Nancy said with urgency. "There's an injured guest in our room and Bess Marvin called for the paramedics. But the people coming are the ones who hurt our guest. They're not the real paramedics!"

There was an uncomfortable pause. "Are you sure of this, Miss Drew?"

"Yes!" Nancy exclaimed. "Please, send the hotel detective immediately."

The mysterious attackers were already knocking on the door. "Open up," one of them called in a rough voice. "You've got somebody hurt in there, don't you?"

"No," George called back. "You've got the wrong room."

"We were told to come to Room 321," was the reply.

"You were told wrong," George insisted.

Peter Howard remained where he was on the floor, tense, not speaking as he glared in concern at the door. "They're not going," he finally said in an undertone.

Nancy hung up the phone. "The desk clerk heard them at the door, through the phone, but I'm not sure he believed me that they're fakes," she frowned.

"Well, he'd better send the hotel detective anyway, even if he doesn't believe you," George frowned.

"Are they still out there?" Bess worried.

George pressed herself against the door. "Yeah," she reported. "I can hear them talking to each other, probably trying to figure out what to do now."

It didn't take long for them to find out. The voices faded down the hall.

"They're going away, I think," George said. "I guess they don't want to make a big fuss."

Nancy was unconvinced. "Maybe they're just going around the corner, waiting for one of us to open the door and check to see if they're gone."

"I guess it's possible," Peter mused, gingerly rubbing at his head again. "But I'm not sure if they're smart enough to think that far ahead."

"I was almost expecting them to start trying to break the door down," George admitted.

"And then everyone on this floor would know they were here," Nancy noted. She came to the door herself and tried to listen. "Another possibility is that they're going to talk to someone on the staff to try to get them to let them in. But then there's the possibility that the staff member would stay here too, to see if they could help."

"And they wouldn't want that," Peter said.

"So they'd probably hit the staff member the way they hit you, Mr. Howard!" Bess moaned. "Oh, what a terrible mess!"

"I don't think they'll do that, though," Nancy said. "Get a staff member, I mean.

"Mr. Howard, you were about to tell us where you'd hid your notes on Allan Parker."

"They're in the hem of the drapes in my room," Peter answered. "I thought they'd look through all of my belongings, but I couldn't picture them being smart enough to turn the room completely upsidedown. But in case I'm wrong, I have a spare copy."

"And where's _that?_" Nancy frowned.

"Currently in the mail, I'd imagine," Peter said. "I Xeroxed my notes earlier tonight and slipped the envelope into a mailbox. They'll be posted to me General Delivery."

"Do your enemies know you have that second copy?" Nancy wondered.

"I don't think so," Peter said. "Not unless they've been following me longer than I even realized. The problem is that I learned something new only after I mailed the envelope. And the only copy of _that_ information is among the notes in my room."

"Well, we can't get out of here to go look for them until we know we're safe," George said. "Those creeps might go wait at your door."

"They might," Peter sighed.

The next knock on the door made everyone jump. "Hello? Is everything okay in there?"

Nancy went back to the door. "Yes," she called back. "Who's there?"

"It's Corbin Wain, the hotel detective. I can push my identification under the door for you to see."

"Thank you, Mr. Wain," Nancy said. "Unfortunately, since we're afraid those false paramedics mugged the real paramedics and stole their uniforms, they could have done the same to you." She accepted the I.D. coming under the door. "This might not be enough for us to believe you're the real Mr. Wain."

"I'm here too, Miss Drew," the desk clerk's voice announced. "A maid just found the paramedics unconscious in a closet. When I heard that, I came right up after Mr. Wain to tell you."

Nancy recognized the desk clerk's voice. Satisfied, she opened the door. "Are they going to be alright?" she asked as she handed the billfold to Mr. Wain.

"Hopefully," the clerk cringed. "We've called for more paramedics and the police. How's your . . . guest?" He peered into the room and then blinked in stunned surprise to see Peter Howard slowly getting up to sit on the edge of a bed. From his expression, he had thought the injured guest would be another girl.

"He'll hopefully be alright too," Nancy said. "We need to get something from his room that those men were after. Mr. Wain, would you be willing to come with me while I get it?"

"Of course," Mr. Wain said. "But will the rest of you be alright in here?"

"We'll shut and lock the door," George said.

"And we won't open it for anyone but Nancy," Bess added firmly.

"It should just take a minute to find it," Peter said, handing Nancy his room key.

Nancy accepted it with a nod. "We'll be right back," she promised.

xxxx

Peter Howard's room was somewhat of a combination between organized and a mess. Nancy glanced around at the scattered papers and hastily thrown clothes as she made her way to the drapes. The room didn't look like it had been completely ransacked, so hopefully their enemies had not been down here. This was probably simply the way Peter really kept his room.

A tabloid was crumpled in a trashcan near the window. Nancy had to bend down to dig inside the hems of the drapes, so she casually glanced at the paper while she worked. All she could really make out was part of the headline: _Howard Declared A Fraud._

Frowning, she turned her attention to the drapes. She had just located a small notepad and now started to draw it out. After taking a quick flip through it to make sure it was the right item, she slipped it into her jacket pocket and reached for the tabloid.

"Have you found what you wanted, Miss Drew?" Mr. Wain suddenly asked from where he was making sure the closet was devoid of people.

"Yes," Nancy told him. "We can go back now."

She straightened, quickly skimming over the tabloid article. According to it, the magazine syndicate Peter had claimed to be working for had in reality gone bankrupt. Unable to get another steady job, Peter had been forced to freelance for whatever paper would take a story. But, too embarrassed to acknowledge that he was really jobless, he continued to claim that he worked for a large magazine syndicate.

She frowned as she hid the tabloid inside her jacket and walked to the door with Mr. Wain. Being a tabloid, it could very easily be constructing complete lies out of a couple of vague facts. She still didn't know what magazine syndicate Peter was supposedly working for, but she did know that his work on the writer John Addams was scheduled to be published soon. She wouldn't accept this tabloid story as fact without talking to Peter first.

"I didn't know you knew Peter Howard, Miss Drew," Mr. Wain commented when they stepped into the hall.

"We met briefly in the past," Nancy said. "This is the first time I've seen him since then." She glanced at Mr. Wain. "I didn't know you tried to keep track of my acquaintances, Mr. Wain."

The man flushed. "Oh. Well, I don't, really. I suppose I just didn't think Howard was the type of person you'd be interested in associating with."

"I meet all kinds," Nancy said calmly, hoping the tabloid was safely out of sight. "But what do you mean, Mr. Wain? What type of person do you think Mr. Howard is?"

Mr. Wain shrugged. "Just a typical reporter—intrusive, pushy, manipulative, determined to get his story at all costs. . . . I figured you'd clash with someone like that."

Nancy didn't offer a reply. Peter had admittedly been charming on the cruise ship, but he had also told her that he intended to use "gentle intimidation" to get his story on John Addams. And he had planned to use his tactics on her in the hopes of getting her to talk to Mr. Addams about his proposal for an autobiography.

By contrast, he had been strangely subdued the last time she had seen him. When Mr. Addams had approached him, at last receptive to the idea of the autobiography, he had started to awkwardly say something about the magazine syndicate he represented. Mr. Addams had not let him finish, instead telling him that they would talk about it later.

Could he have been about to acknowledge that the syndicate was going bankrupt? Or that it already was and he was in actuality a freelancer?

Nancy frowned more. If Peter decided not to be forthcoming with answers when she asked, maybe she would have to place a call to Mr. Addams and see what he would say.

After all, if Peter was himself a fraud to any extent, she had to wonder how reliable his claims were about Allan Parker.

Then again, he certainly seemed to be right about someone being after him. If she'd had any doubts about that, the poor paramedics in the closet had eliminated them. And if the fake paramedics were not after him about the notes, she could scarcely imagine what they might want instead.

xxxx

Room 321 looked undisturbed by the time they returned. Nancy knocked on the door. "It's me—Nancy," she called.

Bess opened the door. "Oh, thank goodness," she declared. "I thought maybe you'd been ambushed by those awful men!"

"Thankfully, no," Nancy said as she came inside. "We didn't see them at all."

"Did you find the notes?" Peter asked. He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, but he looked a little perkier.

"Right where you said they'd be," Nancy said. Still keeping hold of the tabloid in her jacket, she took the notepad out of her pocket with her other hand and gave it to him.

Mr. Wain observed the scene. "I'll stand guard in the hall," he said. "The police should be here any minute now."

"Good," Nancy said, glancing over at him. He pulled the door shut, leaving them to their own devices.

Peter was skimming through the notepad. "It's all here," he said in relief.

"I still don't see what kind of a case you could have built against poor Allan Parker," Bess said, making a face.

"This explains everything," Peter said, indicating the pad. "But anyway, Miss Marvin, if there isn't something to it, why you do think those people are out to get me?"

Bess frowned. "There could be other reasons," she said. "Maybe they're fans of Allan Parker's and they're upset that you're trying to smear his name."

Peter had to smirk. "They're going to a lot of trouble."

"Let's not forget that 'fan' is short for 'fanatic'," George inserted, unable to resist the tease. "But nah, I don't really think that's it, either."

"I'm not just 'trying to smear his name', anyway," Peter said. "The evidence I've been gathering would prove not only that Parker is a fraud, but that other people have started to uncover the truth before me and have been hurt. Now, it's one thing to pretend to be something you're not. Everyone does that to some extent. But to take it so far as to deliberately damage other people's lives over it . . . well, don't you think that the people deserve to know about someone like that?"

Bess didn't like where the conversation was going. But she liked even less that she had to agree with Peter's logic. "Yeah, I guess they do," she mumbled. "_If_ it's all true," she added then, raising her voice.

"You're stubborn," Peter remarked.

"If I am, then so are you," Bess returned haughtily.

Peter chuckled. "You have some interesting friends, Miss Drew."

"And you have some interesting arguments, Mr. Howard," Nancy said. She was eager to bring out the tabloid and question him about the story in it, particularly after hearing his comments on everyone pretending to be something they're not. But she wasn't sure if she wanted to do it when anyone else was present.

The telephone abruptly assisted her dilemma.

George snatched it up. "Hello?" She listened for a moment. "Yes, Mom, we're fine. Everything's fine; we just got in late."

Bess looked over. "Are my parents there too?"

George placed her hand over the receiver. "Yeah. They want to talk to you."

Bess hurried over.

Nancy turned her attention back to Peter. "The notes weren't the only thing I found in your room," she told him quietly. She pulled out the crumpled tabloid.

He stiffened. "I forgot I left that thing in there," he grumbled. "But I wasn't expecting you to go digging through my garbage, Miss Drew."

"It was right on top," Nancy assured him. "And with a headline like this peeking out at me, you have to admit it's an attention-getter." She looked him firmly in the eyes. "Well, Mr. Howard? What about this story? Is it true? A minute ago you sounded like you felt it wasn't wrong in general for people to pretend to be something they're not."

"Ah, I see. Of course, I'd expect you to latch onto that." Peter sighed, taking the tabloid from her and glowering at it. "There really is a magazine syndicate, Miss Drew. And take note I said _is_. But they are teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. That's why I was so anxious to publish Mr. Addams' autobiography. I thought something that big might save the organization."

"And does it seem like it's going to?" Nancy queried.

"We have high hopes," Peter said.

"It seems strange that you've never mentioned the name of this syndicate," Nancy said.

Peter took a card out of his pocket. "I just never had occasion to while you were around, Miss Drew."

Nancy took the card, studying the name. "I've heard of them," she said in surprise. "But I haven't heard anything about them almost going bankrupt."

"They're trying very hard to keep it secret," Peter said.

"They must be," Nancy acknowledged.

"If you still don't believe me, Mr. Addams will back me up."

"I was thinking of calling him," Nancy admitted.

"I imagined you would," said Peter.

Again there came a knock on the door. They looked up, tense. Would it be the real paramedics this time?


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

To their relief, Corbin Wain's voice came through the door.

"Miss Drew? The paramedics are here. The real ones this time; I made sure of that."

"Oh thank goodness," Bess declared as Nancy got up to open the door.

Peter still regarded the paramedics with a bit of unease and suspicion. Then again, Nancy mused, maybe he really just did not want to be examined.

He certainly was tense all through the examination. And he was highly displeased at the paramedics' feelings that he should go to the hospital with them for X-rays and other tests.

"It's not as though they hit me with a sledgehammer," he protested as he stood up from the bed.

"Maybe not, but you _were_ unconscious for a while, Mr. Howard," Nancy put in. "You should probably go with them, just to be on the safe side. We'll be looking over your notes and talk with you about them when you get back."

Peter sighed, but in a resigned manner. "Well, if you're really worried about me, Miss Drew," he smiled. "Of course I wouldn't want to disappoint you."

"I just think it would be a good idea to make sure you're alright," Nancy returned, fixing him with a Look.

Peter shrugged. "I'll speak with you later, then. I don't have to tell you to keep those notes safe.

"Good evening, ladies!" He waved broadly to all three girls as he headed out of the room with the paramedics.

Bess looked to Nancy with wide eyes once they had left. "Nancy, he was flirting with you!" she exclaimed.

"You should know," George chimed in. "Since you're a champion at flirting."

Bess stuck her nose in the air. "I just know how to handle myself around men."

Nancy was only half-listening, already engrossed with Peter's notes. It was true; he was somewhat of a flirt. But, she was sure, it was mainly just something he did to get something he wanted. That was why he had tried to flirt with her on the cruise ship.

His evidence against Allan Parker was interesting. There were certainly circumstantial facts that seemed to incriminate Parker—strange comments on the telephone or to others in person, he or his friends being near the scenes of a couple of the attacks Peter had mentioned—but nothing so far that could prove any connection between him and the rumors about him.

"Seriously, Nancy, did you meet up with him more than I even knew about?" George cut into her thoughts.

"Huh?" Nancy mumbled. "Who?"

"Mr. Howard, of course!" George exclaimed. "On the ship!"

"Oh." Nancy forced herself back to the present long enough to reply. "Yes, I talked to him while we were waiting for Dad's information on Martin Carroll, when we thought Mr. Howard really _was_ Mr. Carroll. And I saw him a couple of other times, too."

"He should have wanted to ask _you_ to write a book!" Bess declared. "Nancy, you've had so many hair-raising experiences, it would be just as good as any mystery novel!"

"Better," George inserted.

"He'd heard about me," Nancy admitted, "but I think he thought all the stories were exaggerated. He was focused on getting the Okay on an autobiography of Mr. Addams—and on wanting me to help him get it. Although I have to admit, he was enough of a gentleman that he left me alone when I made it absolutely clear that I wouldn't be manipulated. By the end of the case, he said he was impressed with my skills in solving it, but he was mainly excited about Mr. Addams finally agreeing to the idea of an autobiography. And that's just as well; you two know I don't like publicity."

"We know," George nodded.

"But surely a little wouldn't hurt," Bess added. "Just think of all the handsome men you'd meet!"

"I already meet a lot of men, Bess." Nancy's gaze was drifting back to the notes again. "And some of them aren't really all that great." But before Bess could answer, Nancy let out an audible gasp.

George perked up. "What is it?" she demanded.

Nancy held up the notepad. "Mr. Howard claims that Mr. Parker threatened him—and that he has it on tape!"

Bess rushed over and grabbed the notepad to see for herself. "But that's ridiculous!" she cried. "Mr. Parker knows that Mr. Howard is a reporter. He'd be expecting a tape or a digital recorder or something like that. If he was going to threaten anybody—and he wouldn't, unless they were criminals—he wouldn't do it in a way that could be traced back to him!"

Nancy nodded. "It does sound far-fetched," she admitted. "But maybe that isn't how Mr. Howard has a copy. I'll ask him about it."

"It'd be weird if he had a copy some other way," George said.

"But it isn't impossible," Nancy returned.

Bess frowned. "If he copied all the notes, why didn't he copy the tape too?" she wondered.

"Maybe he did," George shrugged.

"Well, if he did, it isn't here," Nancy said, flipping through the rest of the notepad just to be sure there wasn't another surprise in hiding.

Bess sat on the bed next to her friend. "Nancy, do you like Mr. Howard?" she blurted.

Nancy lowered the notepad and stared. "What do you mean, Bess?"

Bess bit her lip. "Well, I know you said you didn't, but I wondered if you might change your mind. I mean, if you don't like him, that would give you more reasons to think maybe he's making up these awful things about Allan Parker."

"I still don't especially like him," Nancy said. "But you know I have to look objectively at everything to do with a mystery. Maybe he's making things up, but maybe he isn't. And someone certainly is after him for some reason."

"I know." Bess sighed. "I guess I just don't want to believe it's Mr. Parker. Actually, Mr. Howard is a very charming man." She blushed. "He was talking to me while we were waiting for you to come back from getting the notes."

"And what happened to wanting to find a man closer to your own age?" George teased.

Bess rolled her eyes. "I didn't say I wanted to date him or anything. But you'd have to be awfully stupid not to realize he's charming."

"Oh, he turns on the charm, alright," George said. "He probably gets a lot of interviews that way."

"That's just what I was thinking," Nancy agreed.

Bess hopped off the bed. "Well, he could be at the hospital for a while," she declared. "Why don't we go back downstairs and see if anything exciting is still going on?"

"You mean to see if there's still any cute guys around," George remarked.

"That's not a bad idea, actually," Nancy mused. "If Allan Parker's around, we should talk to him."

Bess froze. "Nancy, what would you say to him?!" she exclaimed. "Surely you wouldn't tell him that any of us are thinking he might be guilty!"

Nancy replied calmly, "I'd tell him that Peter Howard has been saying he's a fraud and that Mr. Howard was attacked tonight. Then I'd wait for Mr. Parker's answer and take it from there."

Bess folded her arms. "Well, I wouldn't mind doing some detective work in finding Mr. Parker, but I don't want to talk to him about _this._"

"I wouldn't expect you to, Bess," Nancy said. "Depending on what _I_ find out, and how he acts, it might be a good thing for you to try to get close to him later and see what you can learn. Maybe you'd even find something that would exonerate him."

Bess perked up. "That would be wonderful!" she declared. She hurried to the door. "Let's see if he's around."

George lingered, looking to Nancy. "What if he isn't around, Nancy?" she wondered.

"Then," Nancy said, "we'll need to try to find out his room number."

xxxx

As it turned out, Allan Parker was not still around. And Nancy and the others had not managed to uncover his room number by the time Peter wearily trudged into the hotel, his suit coat slung over his shoulder.

Nancy, who had gone down to the lobby to wait for him, perked up. "So, the tests came back negative?" she greeted as she climbed out of the deep chair.

Seeing her, Peter smiled. "Oh, I'm quite in ship-shape," he said, gesturing with widespread arms. "But the doctor recommended I take it easy for a while.

"You really do work around the clock, Miss Drew," he noted. "I thought you would have been in bed long ago."

"Then you underestimated me, Mr. Howard," Nancy said. "I've been thinking about your notes on Allan Parker." She indicated the elevator. "Let's go up to your room and talk about them. Bess and George really _are_ asleep," she added.

"Then of course we'll make it my room," Peter agreed, walking with her to the elevator. "We wouldn't want to wake them."

The elevator and the corridors were empty and they traveled to his room without incident. As Peter unlocked the door, he pushed it open and gestured for Nancy to enter. "Ladies first."

Nancy stepped back into the whirlwind of organized chaos. Peter followed, shutting the door behind them and hastening ahead to move several shirts off the couch. "I do hope you'll pardon the mess," he said. "I wasn't expecting company when I unpacked this afternoon."

"What _were_ you expecting, Mr. Howard?" Nancy returned. She sat on the edge of the couch, the notepad in hand.

Peter sat on the other side of the couch, draping one arm across the top of it. "Oh . . . mostly I was expecting to finally get the goods on Parker and have my next big story," he smiled. "And to prove that I'm not at all a fraud."

"You mention here that Mr. Parker threatened you and you have it on tape," Nancy said, displaying the note in question. "Isn't that too incredible a coincidence?"

Peter barely glanced at the page. "Not really. Not when you consider that neither of us knew it was being taped."

Nancy raised an eyebrow. "Would you care to explain that in plain English, please?"

"Gladly. What happened was that I was standing in the lobby of a small newspaper office in Chicago, waiting for an appointment with the editor. Parker barged in and over to me without missing a beat. He said he was tired of me stalking him and questioning his friends and associates."

"Well, you can't really blame him there," Nancy said.

"Hmm. Maybe not, but don't tell me you haven't had more than a few people say the same thing to you, Miss Drew," Peter answered with a quirky smile. "In some ways, what we do isn't all that different."

Nancy bit back a retort. Their motivation was not the same, but she had to admit that she had definitely encountered a plethora of aggravated suspects and witnesses on almost every case. They had probably found her just as annoying as a reporter like Peter.

"It wouldn't even surprise me if you've had a number of death threats," Peter continued. "And that most definitely was what Parker made next. He got in close to me and said, quote, 'If you don't leave me alone, you're going to have a very mysterious and very fatal accident. And no one will be able to prove it isn't anything but.'"

"And somehow, something that juicy got recorded," Nancy frowned, still skeptical.

Peter nodded. "A reporter I know had left his equipment nearby and turned on, and it got picked up on that. That night, he discovered what had happened and sent me a copy on tape."

"That was convenient." Nancy looked to him. "How do you know it wasn't a recording of a couple of voice actors, mimicking you and Mr. Parker?"

"You're as sharp as ever," Peter said approvingly. "But don't you think it would be a lot of trouble for a random reporter to go through? If he was recording it to make a story out of it himself, why bother sending it to me? And anyway, he didn't make a story out of it. He won't, either. That sort of thing doesn't interest him. He likes more . . . unusual topics."

"Maybe so, but the tape should still be checked against yours and Mr. Parker's voice patterns," Nancy insisted.

"I'm nothing if not thorough," Peter said smoothly. "I have a friend who uses that kind of equipment. I had him check the tape against my voice and known recordings of Parker's voice. It matched."

Nancy leaned forward. "Then it's your best piece of evidence," she said. "Where is it now?"

"In the mail. Oh, but I did make a copy of it, too. I have it on this." Peter held up a Flash drive.

"I brought my laptop," Nancy said. "I'd like to hear it."

"I thought you would," Peter said. "But I have my laptop too. I'll set it up and you can hear it on that."

Nancy watched as he brushed two shirts away from the desk, revealing the laptop. "Mr. Howard," she said slowly, "you said you thought those men who were after you would look through your belongings. Do you think they could have come in here?"

"I suppose," Peter mused, sounding occupied. "If they did, they left almost everything exactly as they found it."

"And do you think they or whoever hired them would be aware that you have a copy of that threat and might upload it to your computer?"

"They shouldn't have any idea that I have a copy of the threat, since they don't have my notes," Peter said.

"Your reporter friend might talk, if they cornered him," Nancy pointed out.

"I don't know how they'd find out about him, but yes, I suppose that's possible." Peter sounded a bit impatient now. "What's your point, Miss Drew?"

"My point is, I don't think you should plug your Flash drive into your laptop until it's been scanned for viruses," Nancy said. "They might have planted something on your laptop that will infect or erase everything on your Flash drive the instant you put it in."

Peter paused in the process of lifting the laptop's lid. "You really think so?"

"I think it's a possibility," Nancy returned, getting up and walking over to him. "Mr. Howard, how did you get into Mr. Addams' cabin on the cruise ship? You were there as soon as we walked in."

"Oh, that was easy. The door was unlocked, probably left that way by that Adriane creature."

"I thought you'd probably bribed someone on the staff," Nancy frowned. "Well, anyway, that's what these people could have done. They couldn't have picked the lock, since it's activated by a cardkey."

Peter sighed, closing the lid again. "Alright. I suppose we'd better not take a chance. I'll take my laptop to a computer expert in the morning."

Nancy nodded in approval. "Good. I'll just go get my laptop and bring it down here."

Peter smiled. "I'll be waiting."

The corridor was still deserted as Nancy stepped out and pressed the elevator button. Apparently someone had used it after them; it was all the way on the top floor. Nancy frowned, tapping her fingers on the metal doorframe with impatience as she waited for it to come down.

She placed her other hand in her jacket pocket. Upon feeling something small and folded, she blinked in surprise. There hadn't been anything in her pocket earlier. What was this? And when had it been put there?

She withdrew her hand, unfolding the small scrap of paper at the same time. In red block letters, on a Post-It note, was written:

STAY AWAY FROM PETER HOWARD

OR YOU'LL BE DEAD ALONG WITH HIM.


End file.
